


Worth It

by ObsidianRomance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Labor and Delivery, M/M, Mpreg, Mpreg Sam, Temporarily Irrational Sam, difficult birth, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean go off the grid to ensure their son is delivered safely. That doesn't mean it's not still quite a struggle for Sam or that Dean's going to get through it in one piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

Sam is going to rip Dean’s junk off. Dean’s pretty sure of it.

To be fair, Dean almost doesn’t blame him because he thinks he’d be doing the same damn thing. Right now, Dean’s a little afraid of Sam and he isn’t sure what he can do about that because, aside from a small town doctor, he’s all Sam’s got at the moment.

The grip Sam has on Dean’s crotch tightens, making Dean squeak in the un-manliest of ways, “Sammy, easy on the goods.”

“Goods?” Sam snorts, a sliver of coherence behind the word. “Fucking no-good is what they are.” He ends his mini-rant by hissing through clenched teeth and keeping a firm hold on Dean.

That’s probably pain talking but it still bruises Dean’s ego. Swallowing thickly, he looks at the doctor like she’s going to be any help. The poor woman probably has no idea what she’s signed up for and Dean’s thankful for that at least. The woman is very human. She has no clue what or who a Winchester is and she has no idea that she’s helping to deliver a being who’s been on heaven and hell’s most wanted list before he’s even born. It’s why Sam and Dean trucked themselves out to the middle of bumble-fuck-nowhere and left themselves at the mercy of a seventy year old woman whose office is attached to her personal residence.

From his position the bed, it’s obvious that Sam’s _really_ pregnant and on the road to being _really_ un-pregnant from the sound of all the huffing and puffing he’s doing. He’s been a good sport through the pregnancy as a whole, clearly wanting this baby and trying to carve out a life where the newborn fits in beside them. Dean’s played the mother-hen role a little too well because he mostly feels guilty about saddling Sam with all the hard work. For the first time, Dean can’t take the burden from Sam and finish things up himself, and that makes him feel off kilter. But he really wants this baby too. The thing is, he also wants his penis to stay firmly attached.

Dean yelps again when Sam growls and makes it very clear that he’s not letting go of his older brother’s crotch.

“Baby’s crowning,” Dorothea says encouragingly like it justifies Sam’s actions..

“Baby’s been crowning _forever_ ,” Sam lashes out and scrunches his nose.

The woman looks up from her concentrated position between Sam’s legs. “Yeah, well, this little one isn’t quite so _little_. He’s gonna take some time to get here. And you’re going to need to stop trying to castrate your husband and start pushing like I know you can.” She looks five seconds away from wagging a finger at the man.

Dean snorts triumphantly at her words, like he’s won some minuscule battle. He also doesn’t correct the woman; if she wants to assume that they’re married, he’s going to play along. It’s a much easier pill to swallow than them being brothers. He takes a deep breath when he feels Sam release him but doesn’t retreat to the other side of the room even though he’s terrified of the cursing monster his brother is becoming. Their kid’s big, they knew that going in. Doctors estimated that he’d be somewhere in the 10lb range by the time he came to term so it’s unsurprising that Sam is both in pain and having a difficult time delivering him. They’re going at this naturally, but they made their choice to have their son in Dorothea’s care and it’s too late to second guess that now.

“Dean!” Sam shouts and reaches out for something Dean’s willing to offer: his hand. He squeezes and yowls as his whole body tenses while he bears down. “Holy shit! Burns.”

Licking his lips nervously, Dean brushes Sam’s damp hair out of the younger man’s face. “It’s okay, Sammy. You’re doing good. An’t he going good?” he asks Dorothea.

She nods. “You’re doing good now that you’re pushing. Come on. Push again. Let’s get that baby moving.”

With a labored breath, Sam pushes harder, grunting through the entirety of the effort. His whole body is shaking and he gets one palm on the top of his rounded belly and tries to push down. “Ugh!” Inhaling on a shudder, he goes at it again.

“Good job. You’re moving him,” Dorothea reassures as she supports Sam’s straining skin around a curve of skull that doesn’t seem to know if it wants to emerge or not.

Sam visibly struggles as he tries to brace himself against anything that will give him support. He settles on tugging Dean closer and pulling against him. He looks like he wants to say something but dissolves into a moan and pushes. When it’s over, he scrambles to catch his breath, head falling back to hang between his shoulder blames. “I can’t! He’s too big.”

Dorothea clicks her tongue. “He’s big, I’ll give you that, but you’re doing it. Come on, deep breath and push again.”

Groaning, Sam feels the wave of needing to push crash into him again and he obeys the woman even though he doesn’t believe he has the power to move his son another inch. “Nngh!”

Dean feels his skin prickle and he has no idea how to help Sam now. He holding onto him tightly, trying to support his weight by stepping closer to wrap and arm around the man’s shoulder span. The connection seems to help slightly and Dean keeps his voice steady when he says, “I’m right here, Sammy. Not going anywhere.”

There is another pained yell and litany of curses as Sam pushes. “I can’t! He won’t fit!” Sam growls and tries again, fingers digging into the meat of Dean’s hand that he’s holding onto like a lifeline.

“Boy, I’ve delivered a lot of babies in my time. Some probably bigger than your son and born to someone much smaller than you. You can get him out, you just need to get his head out. I know it doesn’t feel like he’s going anywhere but from my end, you’re making progress.”

“Burns!” Sam cries.

“That’s ‘cause you’re having a baby. It ain’t no walk in the park but when this lil’ one is in your arms, you’ll find that it’s worth it.” Dorothea scoots closer and pushes Sam’s legs wider. “Come on, now. Your son needs you to push.”

Realizing that the doctor isn’t going to get on his side anytime soon, Sam turns his pleading on Dean. He doesn’t give up easily but right now he feeling like he’s met his match because the pain keeps coming and radiating everywhere. It’s omnipresent and Sam’s panicking over it being the death of him. “Dean, I…I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” The pain fades from his face enough to let his defeat show. “Ohh, god. It feels like I’m being torn apart.”

Pressing a kiss to Sam’s forehead and lingering there, Dean mumbles into his skin. “You’re not being torn apart. You’re right here…with me. You’re doing good. You heard Dorothea, people have babies every day, some even bigger than our boy.”

Sam freezes before he can respond, eyes going wild and he almost hyperventilates. He closes his eyes and moans, opening them to reveal an instinctual determination. He tilts his head for a moment as if gathering all his strength, pitching forward so that he looks through the hair that’s fallen into his eyes with a feral glare. It’s clear by the way the every muscle in his body tenses that he’s pushing and he doesn’t let up for a long while. Almost as suddenly as he started, he ends a herculean effort with a gasp, eyes going wide, “Holy shit!” The pain flares up and he wants to run away although he’s trapped in the moment.

“Head’s out,” Dorothea cheers but her face remains serious and concentrated.

“Wha’?” Dean asks.

“Sam tore. Baby’s head was so much for him. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Sam either didn’t hear or doesn’t care because he’s pushing again, lurching forward and grabbing the back of his thighs. “Come on!” he shouts, vocalizing his discomfort throughout the push. “Please get ‘im,” Sam begs and shifts his hips, widening them as much as he can before pushing.

In a rush, the baby comes into the world, smeared in blood and fluids. Dorothea catches him with expert hands and he’s all floppy limbs for a moment before he starts wailing and trashing his arms like he’s fighting her.

“It’s a boy,” she announces with a smile, wiping the newborn’s face off and clearing his airways.

Sam’s in shock, or a hairs breath away from it. He’s staring slack-jaw at the baby, eyes blown wide. “He’s…he’s….he’s…”

“Here. And perfect. And loud,” Dean finishes for his brother. Dean’s hit with tears that he couldn’t have predicted. The fear he’d felt during the entire birth melts and he’s in awe over his little brother for being able to create that screaming tiny person in the doctors arms. “He is perfect, right?”

“Seems that way,” she says, slowly getting to her feet and reaching to put the baby on Sam’s chest. “You okay to hold him?”

Dumbly nodding a “yes”, Sam’s hands get greedy and he reaches for his son. He gets contact and pulls the baby close, daring anyone to try and part them. “Oh my god.” He’s crying too, wiping at the baby’s wet hair and trying to get to know the little person he swore was killing him. “Hi, baby. Hi.” His voice is hoarse from all the screaming he’d just done but there is a tenderness to it that the baby seems to respond to. “Shh, hi baby. Welcome to the outside.”

Dean has a thousand cliché things that he wants to say but they all come out in a messy, emotion laden kiss to Sam’s lips. “Oh, Sammy. Look at him. He… _he’s ours_.” Dean tries to wrap his arms around both of them but Sam’s size makes it difficult. “So proud of you Sammy. Look what you did?” Peering down, he gets a better look at his son, who looks angry to be out of his warm world in Sam’s womb, and he swells with pride. “Hi little guy.”

“ _Little_?” Sam scoffs. “Ain’t nothing little about him.” The heat in his words it meant for Dean but it’s fleeting and overpowered by the pure adoration. "He's huge."

The moments blur. There are things going on…messy things that neither Winchester wants to think about. Sam wants the pain to stop throbbing but he knows that wish is going to be a long time coming based on Dorothea’s assessment of his tear and the stitching she’s doing. But he finds that the old woman was right. The baby is worth it and he thinks he could handle the pain again and then some if he gets to hold this precious miracle child in his arms. He almost doesn’t let his son go when Dorothea wants to take him momentarily just to get some measurements for his records.

“10 pounds and 4 ounces,” she says with a whistle. “Not my biggest but he’s definitely a little baby Buddha.”

Dean whistles too. His son is proof that their hard work to keep him safe has paid off. He’s big and healthy and might have been a troublemaker coming into the world but he’s their troublemaker. Dorothea transfers the newborn over to Dean’s care when she’s done and he bounces the bundle gently. “Wow, Sammy. He’s a little bruiser.”

Despite being and looking exhausted, Sam sits up straighter and shakes his head. “Ten. Pounds.”

“I know, Sam.”

“Ten. Pounds.” Sam licks his lips and makes a reaching gesture towards the baby. Dean doesn’t hesitate in giving Sam what he needs and soon their son is snuggled up against Sam’s chest. “I pushed out a 10lb human being.” He thinks long and hard, eyes wet with a whirlwind of emotions. “And as much as I love him…you can have out next giant kid if your so gung-ho to make another.”

Dean swallows thickly. He hasn’t recovered enough from having this baby to handle the mere thought of another. He definitely doesn’t want to entertain Sam’s declaration at the current moment so he moves to cup the baby’s round cheek. “How about we focus on little Harrison right now, okay?” When Sam doesn’t say anything. “It still is Harrison, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It's still Harrison. He’s...he’s perfect for that name. Don’t you think little – _big_ – guy?” Sam smiles and kisses the baby’s head. Though he’s feeling self-consciousness creep in over the way he acted during the delivery, the baby yawns and he just doesn’t care. “I can’t believe _this_ is ours. That this is our life. We get to keep _this_.” He kisses Harrison and smiles towards Dean, adding, “get to keep you too.”

“You bet you do. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Dean feels a real smile settling into place for the long haul. He sends an appreciative glance Dorothea’s way but then takes the time she’s offering them to savor the moment between his new family before things get more complicated.

Things may have gone from terrifying, to awe inspiring in a matter of minutes but he’s still filled the knowledge that, while they may have gotten Harrison here safe, there are far from through fighting the battle to keep him that way.

There are a lot of things to think about but they don’t matter yet. What matters is that his brother just delivered their son. Harrison is healthy and hearty and, most importantly, _theirs_.

He’s almost worth losing his junk to Sam’s wrath.

**Author's Note:**

> So...I have a huge problem.
> 
> I have writers block. REALLY BAD. The muse has just disappeared and doesn't want me to write. I have re-written Earning a Miracle: Chapter 8 so many times right now. I feel like it is all just garbage. I have no visions right now because I have been so busy with life and a little depressed. With the holidays coming I am really feeling the loss of my uncle and am sad every day that I have to deal with the legal aftermath of his death.
> 
> Then someone put this tiny idea in my head and I allowed myself to flesh it out just a bit so I could try writing stuff again. I don't know if it is garbage but I feel like I had to get it out. I was anonymously asked to write a birth scene where J2 or Sam/Dean are having a bigger baby and it is a difficult birth. So...viola. Hope it isn't too terrible.
> 
> Thanks in advance for your patience during this difficult time in my life.


End file.
